ELIZABETH ROSE, SAM SHARPE, and SKYE BLUE

We’re finally here folks. It’s time to recap the fourth and final week of Fringe Month 1. And oh, what a week it was…

First up was The F’in Man himself, our boy Sam Sharpe. In his post  I Love Me Some Panties he shared both his love for panties and his general disdain for being asked to don them.

Next, in My Submissive Cyberstalker, I told you all about the adorable, persistent, black woman-worshipping submissive who has been stalking me online for years.

Elizabeth hit you hard mid-week by admitting she has a thing for men’s backdoors – and by thing I mean she wants to get real up close and personal with them. Really she does. Don’t believe our Cambridge educated English rose whose vowels cut glass has such ‘dark’ desires? Then read Fringe in Action for yourself.

Coital Cabaret yet another funny tale by the delightful Elizabeth, that could prove to be helpful to any woman who wants to ensure that the sex tape(s) she films with her bed mates, never see the light of day.

In Fantasy vs. Reality, I shared the story of one of my long time friends, who was hit with a hard reality bitch slap when she chose to fulfill a long time fantasy.

To close out the week Sam Sharpe offered up Careless Whispers, a cautionary tale that highlights the importance of thinking before you speak at all times – yes, even when spewing the dirtiest of dirty talk as you turn your lover out.

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Happy Reading All,

Skye

Partaking in pain as pleasure is a personal choice. I like a spanking to frame my orgasm with a short, sharp slap. Others may like something a little more intense and indulge in nipple clamps, beatings, gimp suits and the like. These folks may need a safe word – a word or phrase unlikely to be used in normal sexual conversation that signals a true end to the event. Choosing to use phrases like the obligatory “Oh stop, no, no, that hurts” are unlikely to work, as they are often said during bedroom romps, even when you may not really want your partner to stop.

Being the helpful sort, I have come up with some suggestions for suitable safe words you can use the next time you dabble (I know – I just spoil you)…

1. Maggie Thatcher on a cold day – one to yell at the top of your voice, repeatedly.
2. Hosepipe Ban – something seasonal for the South of England.
3. This is a passenger announcement – nothing more annoying than a travel interruption.
4. The British are coming – yes, we are.
5. Autofrettage – a word that means boring metal tubes; but sounds kind of dirty.
6. Geronimo – the old ones are the best!
7. Gerbils! – urban myth or Richard Gere’s hobby… it can be yours too.
8. Cowabunga – Bart Simpson or Nick Hornby, both worthy to quote.
9. Crouch. Touch. Pause. Engage. – for the rugby fans.
10. Yellow Card – for the sports fans.
11. Your Mum – take the wind out of anyone’s seductive sails.
12. Alright treacle! – in faux cockney accent.
13. Respect my authority – if it works for Cartman…
14. I ain’t getting on no plane – if they can remake the A-Team, I can steal the catchphrases for my sex life.

Those of you who’ve been coming around for a while may remember that week three of Fringe Month 1, was a veritable hodge podge of kink. That week we gave you all a glimpse into our preferences, tastes and curiosity about various fetishes…

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Our man about town, Sam Sharpe, kicked things off right by sharing the fact that during the folly of his youth he failed to oblige two of his past lovers, resulting in some very regrettable Missed Opportunities.

Then he followed up with a post warning us all about the perils of a bout of role playing gone wrong in Don’t Get Burned (both literally and figuratively).

In Why Knot? I broke down the do’s and dont’s, the hows, the whys and the wherefores of bondage.

Next, Elizabeth, our lovely English rose, confessed her love of The Delicate Art of Spanking – both giving and receiving. Unfortunately, to date I don’t believe she’s had any luck finding a man who’s willing to receive. What gives boys? You afraid of a little paddling?

Choosing to stand in solidarity with my sister from another mister, in my post Eureka! I’m a Spanko I too declared my love of spanking, before going on to highlight the physiological reason why a little paddling can lead to a whole lot of pleasure in the boudoir (YUMMY!).

And to close out the week, Elizabeth Rose hit you all with Fantastic Fantasies, in which she urged you all to explore, express and do your utmost to fulfill your deepest and darkest desires.

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So, don’t waste another minute. Hurry up and (re)read these posts. Then get busy role-playing, spanking, hog-tying and fulfilling those fantasies.

Play Safe and Stay Kinky,

S

I awaken to touch, and then confusion.

I feel the ghost of a caress on my neck and my breath catchs in my throat.

My eyes are still closed, and in the darkness I reach out to you.

My hand finds the arm of my chair. My eyes open.

I feel your touch again, and my body sinks into it.

My shoulder pressing firmly against the chair.

I look over, you are not you. You are a stranger sleeping next to me on the plane.

Your touch is not your touch; it is the hot breath of the form sleeping next to me.

Disappointed, I close my eyes to sleep again.

But the caress continues.

I feel the lightest touch against my throat from this stranger’s breath.

My pulse quickens.

I lean my body in towards the stranger.

His breath plays across my exposed flesh.

I feel goose bumps form across the bare skin of my chest.

With my eyes closed – each of his breaths are your fingertips, tracing from my ear lobe towards the swell of my breasts.

I feel my nipples harden.

I lift my hand to trace the line of your touch.

And as if I was physically struck, suddenly I miss you.

I remember our last night together, and wonder why am I flying away from you.

My hand hovers over my heart while the breath of the stranger dances over my skin.

The memory of you fills my senses.

I.

Miss.

Your.

Cock.

With a sideward glance I check to make sure stranger is still sleeping.

I undo the top two buttons of my blouse.

I turn away from the aisle and towards the sleeping stranger.

As his breath sweeps across my chest, I manoeuvre my hand  beneath my blouse to gently cup my breast, freeing it from the lace of my bra.

The stranger’s breath now rushes over my erect nipple.

I check again.

The stranger sleeps and my flesh is hidden from other passengers.

I slide my hand under the fabric of the aeroplane blanket.

I am surprised to feel the wetness between my legs.

I close my eyes.

I let visions you fill my mind.

The stranger’s breath is your mouth, my hand is your hand.

The stranger’s breath is your hand, my hand is your hand.

The stranger’s breath is your hand, my hand is your mouth.

I.

Miss.

Your.

Cock.

My fingers are not yours, but they play out the same path.

I arch my back as the sensation builds.

I am lost in the moment.

I am lost in you.

Your hand joins mine.

Your fingers take over. Reaching deeper, rubbing faster.

I gasp, but the sound is lost as your lips cover mine.

Your kiss lifts me, and as you move your mouth to my exposed nipple, I bite my lip to stifle my moan.

I lift my hips to your hand to take you deeper, to take all of you.

I.

Miss.

Your.

Cock.

Your teeth draw out my nipple; your other hand massages my breast exquisitely.

My breath stops.

I crest, deliciously, marvellously, exhilaratingly; I crest and ride a wave of you.

As I reach the shallows of you, I exhale.

Your hand slows and stills.

Your mouth leaves my chest, and you rearrange my bra and blouse to cover me.

I sigh into your mouth as you gently kiss me good night.

Without opening my eyes, I draw up the blanket, and turn away from the stranger.

My body is spent, and begging for rest.

“Sweet dreams” a voice says in my ear that is not yours.

I feel the stranger shift in his seat and lean back into his chair.

I close my eyes and smile.

I sleep and I dream of you.

“Working at Sh! involves looking after a huge variety of customers – some who are regulars and know exactly what makes them tick, others who have never used a sex toy and are somewhat shy or reserved at first.” – A Sh! Girl

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Welcome to Sh!

Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium was the very first shop of its kind to open in London. Sh!, a sex shop run by women, for women was founded in 1992. The mission was simple: to create a safe, welcoming environment in which women can shop guilt-free for good quality playthings.

The knowledgeable and friendly Sh! Girlz aim to make information about sex accessible to all, old or young of whatever sexual persuasion, background or culture.

Sh! were the first to launch the ‘Jessica Rabbit’ well before it debuted in ‘Sex and The City’, and the founder Kathryn Hoyle has been a regular spokesperson for the shop, promoting the ethos behind the store and the brand.  She has even been to 10 Downing Street to attend an Aids Awareness event.

Sh! set up its very own research and development department, and works with many National Health Service trusts offering advice and help on women’s gynecological care.

Sh! hosts a variety of different nightly events at their London store ranging from workshops, art and photography exhibitions, literary readings and much more.

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The Sh! Difference

The key thing that makes Sh! different from all other sex shops, is the warm and friendly welcoming you receive upon entering the shop. After you’ve been offered a cup of tea, you will be looked after by one of the Girlz, who will provide you with the kind of attentive and exclusive assistance you wished every shop offered. And the best bit is that you can do all this without having to worry about any men being in the to check out your purchases! ( Sh! welcomes Gents into the shop only if they are accompanied by a woman.)

The staff at Sh! do their utmost to ensure that each and every customer  leaves their shop with the products and resources they need to enhance their sex lives. Renee, the Store Manager, shared the story of one such customer recently.

‘Only the other week we had a recently divorced lady in the shop who had never experienced an orgasm and never used a toy in her life. After plenty of time in the shop with one of the Sh! Girlz she left with a new toy, a book and plenty of advice and confidence. Two days later I received an email from her telling us that we had literally changed her life and she felt like a woman again. This is so typical of a Sh! customer and exactly what makes our days here so rewarding.’

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Just Another Day at Sh!

A normal working day it is not! With deliveries of vibrators, stunningly sexy lingerie, books and other toys, working at Sh! this is not for the faint hearted. But the beauty of Sh! is that the staff takes all of this in stride, because they love working in the shop; and as a result, all their customers love shopping there. It really is a beautiful pink private haven of classy fun.

In the evening, the spanking class which is run by Renee is usually offered at the shop, although they often have literature reading nights hosted by various erotic authors, or other lessons on bedroom antics that are literally booked out each week.

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Coming Soon… A New Sh! Store in West London

Look out ladies of West London – Sh! will be opening on your doorstep very soon, and will bring with it all the charm, class, fun and adventure that East London has been enjoying for the last decade. You will soon see what you have been missing out on. In the meantime visit their website at www.sh-womenstore.com.

Metanotherfrog.com will be interviewing Kathryn Hoyle at July 22nd launch of Sh! West London store. Check back at the weekend to find out more from behind the scenes of a sex shop.

Voyeur:

1. A person who derives sexual gratification from observing the naked bodies or sexual acts of others, especially from a secret vantage point.

2. An obsessive observer of sordid or sensational subjects.

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Mademoiselle Richard. I was in grade four. She was my French teacher. She had curly locks that wove around her face and her cheekbones like climbing roses on a trellis. I am convinced that her lips inspired the word “rouge”. They were so…rouge. She loved plunging necklines and pencil skirts. She always, always wore several bangles on her left wrist. I hated French. But I loved French class.

One spring afternoon we were conjugating verbs or some other nonsense and while my classmates were dutifully scribbling in their notebooks I was observing the way that her perfectly formed bottom was being caressed by the oh-so-lucky fabric of her skirt as she wrote on the chalkboard. When she turned to address the class I couldn’t help but watch her lips form words and imagine tasting them. And then my gaze started to follow the outline of her collarbone that was left exposed by her sweater….

That’s when it happened. The firming in my pants. It wasn’t the first erection I’d ever had. But I think it was the first time I intellectually made the explicit connection between the feminine form and my sexual arousal. I squirmed in my seat. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I wanted to do it with her.

This arousal was preempted by fear the moment Mademoiselle Richard asked me to come to the front of the class and finish conjugating the verbs on the chalkboard. Every boy knows what happens next. The guilty, shuffled steps. The clumsy attempts at hiding the “issue” with a textbook or folded hands. The feelings of utter shame.

All these years later, very few experiences come close to matching the charge that ran through my body when I first realized what watching the female form could do to me. What watching in general could do, how powerless it could make me feel. How at any moment gazing upon a snatch of female flesh could turn me into mush.

I’m sure you can all relate. If not, we at metanotherfrog.com have got you covered. During our first Fringe Month we covered Voyeurism and Exhibitionism from multiple perspectives. If you missed it, take another look and see just where you fit in.

Sam Sharpe aka The F’in Man

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To See and Be Seen

Let’s Play Outside

Lights! Camera! Action!

Group Action Makes Me Hot

Top Tips For Outdoor Affairs

Voyeur or Exhibitionist

“If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough.” – Mario Andretti

I have control issues. I like to be in control of the schedule, the menu, the car, most everything in fact. So in the world of domination and submission, I should be a natural dominant. I like to be on top after all. And I am always ready to tell my lovers all about my wants and desires.

But, it is nice to have a switch around sometimes and there is still nothing sexier than a man who takes control. (I have a long standing sexual fantasy involving Howard Webb that attests to this.) I have a job that involves making decisions and bossing people about (I’m not a professional Dominatrix, I promise) so I don’t always want that in the bedroom. Sometimes, I know what I want and I make it happen, but other times it’s nice to have a bit of a passionate throw down. (Not unlike Sam, I do enjoy a bit of a tussle during foreplay.)

So, basically I like variety, with a hint of Vanilla. As long as the end result is a good variety and some fun, I can go with the flow. However, there are a few key things I would ask all my lovers; past, present and future to remember…

Being submissive with me is not:

1. Lying back to “be done unto” – that’s just lazy, men can be starfish too.
2. Constantly asking “What do you want me to do?” – have a bit of imagination! Do I have to tell you everything?
3. Asking for me to put on heels and then kick you – this actually happened once, it was a bit weird for me.
4. Never reciprocating – you should go down too sometimes. Yes, it is a very good thing.
5. Running into the bathroom to suit up into some lunacy gimp outfit and coming back looking like Smeagol.

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Being dominant with me is not:

1. Coming in your timeframe and then ignoring mine  – that’s just lazy.
2. Unexpected anal – permission and lube are ALWAYS prerequisites
3. Damaging my clothes or delicate skin – a firm grip and a bit of a spanking is great, but try not to leave marks. It upsets the next chap.
4. Never reciprocating – you should go down too sometimes. Yes, it is a very good thing.
5. Running into the bathroom to suit up into some lunacy gimp outfit and coming back looking like Smeagol.

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Whichever way you choose to take the power dynamic is all good with me. Just remember it’s always about giving and receiving of mutual pleasure, and NEVER about gimp suits.

This week saw Jami opening all of our eyes to the potential for butt secks. Even for vanilla girls! I’m not a vanlla girl, but the tips, clarity and giggles provided in the two day literary feast had me reaching for my lube and bending on over.  As I said at the time, this is a far cry from my previous view point, though that largely centred around why men want to put it up there. We have yet to really address why women enjoy this, so it appears we have yet to exhaust the topic!

Our launch week of Fringe (the first bit in January) was also anally focused. This is where you’ll find all things for all bottoms, including a bit about “pegging”, some purchasing tips for butt plugs, anal avoidance techniques and a taster on rimming.

Enjoy!

Elizabeth Rose

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Instinctual Butt Clenching

Above The Rim

The Anal Truth

Ain’t Too Proud To Peg

Heteroflexible Dudes and Straight Pussy

Bum Toys

“Smell is the sense of memory and desire.”  Jean-Jacques Rousseau

We here at metanotherfrog.com are returning to the fringe of sexual preference and desire for the duration of July, aka Fringe Month Two. We’ll be picking up where we left off back in January in our explorations of the filthy, oft unnerving and ever kinky. And I have the pleasure of kicking things off today with an almost universal fetish; that of smells or scents.

The vending machines in Japan that issue worn girls’ knickers for a pick-me-up odour are perhaps the outer fringe to me, but maybe just because it is more honest and open I should be praising them for their coin operated fetish dispensers.

I believe we all have a fetish for scents, although it is only recognised as a fetish if it is for a scent that mainstream society deems “dirty”. Google “smell fetish” and you’ll get links about smelling ass, feet, ear wax(!!!) or dirty knickers. Yet most of us unwittingly get turned on by of sense of smell much more readily than many would admit.

I find a waft of Lynx Africa has me rubber necking to find it’s source – it’s a cheap scent worn by teenage boys in the UK (a.k.a Axe elsewhere) . It brings back memories of when I too was a cheap scent worn by teenage boys in the UK, when the acrobatics were all first times and my partners were inexhaustible.

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Our olfactory organ is a treasure trove of discovery about our sexual preferences. Some men just smell wrong to me, no matter how hot or how sexy their banter; I just can’t work my cooch up to be excited for them. I have no idea what my subconscious has decided about their genetics / pheromones, but I trust nature with this one (although there are times I am tempted to douse the odd really hot one in Lynx Africa and give it a go regardless).

So before, you dive further into the outer fringes of your own sexuality, you can always start with a few baby steps. Today’s homework – smell your lover. Explore every inch of them with your nose (you can always leave a few kisses as you pass).  Try this first thing in the morning, give it a go fresh from the shower, even after he’s just back from a run. (Don’t do it post public transport – you are just smelling other people, and in London during a heat wave that can be rather pungent without aircon on the tube.)

Personally, I love the fresh scent of a man’s skin scrubbed and still slightly damp from the shower. His body is like a blank canvass for us to write our escapades across in the scent of sweat, mixed bodily fluids, trails of saliva and perhaps even the sweet tang of a flavoured lube; a veritable nasal narrative. Of course, the composing of  such a storyboard of scent does mean that clean sex always turns into the dirtiest kind with me.

Man Month.

How could we have just one month focusing on those hairy,
grunting, bear-wrestling MALE specimens when I spend every month focusing my lady parts towards in a slightly intimidating and oft unnerving fashion?

A hairy, grunting, bear-wrestling MALE specimen - the stuff ER's nether regions dreams are made of.

So what wonderful insights did we grasp from this month of old spice, cigar smoke and whisky?

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Firstly we tackled the myth that men have feelings?! Oh sorry, I mean the myth that men don’t have feelings. Mind you, I didn’t – I chose a more self indulgent route. Sue me.

Men Have Feelings

10 Things You Shouldn’t Say When a Man Opens Up

All Men Are Bastards

FYI Ladies: Only Sociopaths Feel Nothing

Guest Post: A Word on Men and Emotions

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Next, as we discussed men and skinny women, we shared a catchy new T shirt slogan,  and Ken explained how he discovered his love for voluptuous women after suffering a broken nose during a romp with a skinny girl:

Do All Men Prefer Skinny Women

The Skinny on Women and Thinness

Why Skinny Chicks?

Two in the Pink, One in the…aka My Favourite Links (A brief side step by Sam for comedic relief.)

Guest Post: In Praise of Not-So-Skinny Women

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During week three we shared ours thoughts on men and their one track minds. This time Skye took a diversionary tactic. (Seriously, you cannot keep us on topic here at metanotherfrog.com, it’s like herding kittens. Get them all in one place and you have an urge to drown them in a sack.)

Sex We All Want It

Sex is Awesome

Do Men Really Have One Track Minds

Say It Loud – I’m a Slut and I’m Proud

Guest Post: Men Want Sex

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Next up…men and cheating, which since I don’t believe in monogamy to begin with gave me a wonderful excuse to run delightfully off topic again. Meow. (Oh look, a large bag with tuna in it - I’ll just step inside, purrr.)

Is Polyamory Right for You?

Cheat Sheet

Men and Cheating: A Reality Check

Top 10 Ways to Tell He’s Cheating

Guest Post: Men Only Cheat When…

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Finally, we ended the marvels of man month by proving beyond all doubt that men are stupid. Sorry, that’s not right; we proved they aren’t all stupid. (I am having trouble focusing. The tuna bag seems to have closed above me and now I’m in the  sack with water rising around my feet…)

Men Are Stupid

If Men Are So Stupid

Rules of Engagement

A Little Bit of This, a Little Bit of That

Guest Post: Men Aren’t Stupid

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Enjoy!

Elizabeth Rose